


Half a Chance

by rosa_himmelblau



Series: Happenstance [1]
Category: Wiseguy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:13:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29357037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosa_himmelblau/pseuds/rosa_himmelblau
Summary: Sonny gets away, but not quite clean.
Series: Happenstance [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2156475





	Half a Chance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThePointedStick (KrissyMaeAnderson)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrissyMaeAnderson/gifts).



Sonny shoved the kid out of the way, got in the car, Vinnie's voice chasing him—

"Sonny!"

Put it in reverse, floored it—

"Sonny!"

Spun the car around, Vinnie was right along side it, on the passenger side, hand on the door handle—

"Give it up, Sonny, you can't—"

Again Sonny went to slam his foot on the gas pedal, but it slipped, the car lost momentum while Vinnie gained it, launched himself over the door like fucking Robin the Boy Wonder just as Sonny's foot hit the gas.

"Stop the car! Pull it over—"

Sonny swung the wheel hard to the right, then back to the left, hoping to dislodge him, but Vinnie clung like a barnacle. "Get the fuck off my car!"

Vinnie was settling himself in the seat, still yelling at Sonny to pull over. Sonny gripped the wheel with his left hand, tried to hit Vinnie with his right, but the angle was off, it was like throwing balloons. He wished with all his heart for a gun. "Get outta my car!"

"Pull over!" Vinnie yelled again, and finally Sonny just ignored him, focusing on getting away. They weren't that far from the border, and while Canada had extradition, it could still buy him some time. "Sonny, you can't escape—"

"Shut up!" Sonny reached over to smack him again, but Vinnie ducked easily and pushed his hand away.

"Cut it out! You can't run away from this!" Sonny went for him again, nearly losing control of the car. Vinnie grabbed the wheel. "Cut it out! You're gonna run us into a tree—"

"Us? There is no us! Get out of my car!" Sonny took the wheel, shoving Vinnie to the other side of the car. There had to be a way to throw him out, but if there was, Sonny didn't know what it was. He'd keep driving, get across the border, figure it out on the way

"Where the hell are you going anyway?" Vinnie asked, his tone wavering between sweet reason and exasperation. Sonny didn't answer, just concentrated on the road. It had been a long time—since boxing camp—since he'd done this, and even then he'd never driven it himself. The car had belonged one of the other guys, and one summer they'd got it in their heads that sneaking across the Canadian border was the biggest adventure to be had. It was mindless, really—there was no reason to sneak, but that was the fun of it. And somewhere around here was the route they'd used. Once he was across the border, he'd pull over, throw Terranova out of the car, and disappear. Trouble was, getting him out of the car wouldn't be that easy, and keeping him from getting back in it would be even harder. So, fine, just to be on the safe side, he'd fucking hit him with the car.

"Where the hell are we going?" Vinnie asked again. "We're in the middle of nowhere—" And then Vinnie knew just where they were headed. "Canada extradites, you know!"

"Yeah, great, I'll drop you at a pay phone, you can call a Mountie. Now shut the fuck up." Sonny seemed preoccupied.

"Do you even know where you're going?"

"I told you to shut up!"

No idea, Vinnie deduced and felt like laughing. This is ridiculous. "Just pull over, we'll switch places, I'll drive back—"

"What're you, nuts?" Sonny asked. "I'm not going back, there's nothing to go back for."

"What about Theresa?"

"What about her?"

"You're just abandoning her—"

"You think she'd rather see me dead? Shut up." The look Sonny shot him gave Vinnie chills. He didn't like being alone there in the woods with him, even if Sonny was unarmed; when he wasn't telling him to shut up, Sonny was swearing at him under his breath, his anger not dissipating, but growing.

Vinnie reached over to grab the keys out of the ignition, but Sonny caught his hand, bent his fingers back hard, until Vinnie was finally able to pull free. "Try that again, I'll break 'em."

Vinnie sat rubbing his hand, trying to figure out what to do. It was a bad idea to attack the driver of a car going anywhere between seventy and ninety mph. The area was so remote, if something happened, the odds of rescue were slim bordering on none. "Could you at least slow down at the stop signs?" Vinnie asked, but Sonny didn't answer.

There are golf clubs in the trunk, Sonny realized suddenly; he'd seen the kid putting them in. Yeah, that'd work, I could brain him with one of those, leave him by the side of the road. He gave Vinnie a sidelong glance. It would have to be soon; Vinnie wouldn't keep riding along with him forever. Now there's a thought.... He'd never have admitted it, but Sonny kind of liked the idea of taking Vinnie with him. He gave Vinnie another look. Hell, he ruined my wedding, tonight's supposed to be my wedding night. Mmm, yeah....

Vinnie was getting ready to make another grab for the keys, watching Sonny with great care. He was just about to reach over when Sonny grinned at him, confusing the hell out of Vinnie. "What's so funny?"

"Shut up," Sonny answered, then he started laughing. And then Vinnie was really worried.

Sonny wished he could tell which side of the border they were on; if it was Canadian, he'd have a little breathing space. The news coverage wouldn't be as intense, which would help him a lot. "If I just keep heading north, I'll run into a little town—what was the name of that place?" His memory gave no answer, and Vinnie was staring at him as if he was nuts. "Gotta be a motel there, we can spend the night—"

"Have you completely lost your mind?" Vinnie asked.

"What's crazy about that? We gotta sleep somewhere."

"What we?" Vinnie asked. "There is no we."

Sonny ignored his sarcasm. "Fine. Get out of my car."

Vinnie snorted. "Your car."

"What?"

"You stole it, that's what." Vinnie said it as though he was talking to a nitwit.

Sonny shrugged. "Add it to the list of charges when you call the Mounties."

"Sonny, this is no joke." He was back to sweet reason.

"Better believe it. This is my life. What time is it?"

"What time—what difference does it make?"

"What time is it?" Sonny insisted, and Vinnie checked his watch.

"Nearly eight. Why?"

"Just wanted to know."

What time is it! Vinnie's feeling of helplessness was growing as Sonny's self-confidence grew. He didn't like being out in the middle of nowhere, knowing nothing but that they were headed north. He needed to do something to stop Sonny, to get back in control of the situation. Back in control? When were you ever in control? Yeah, yeah, shut up.

"Sonny. Listen to me. You can't run away from this—" How many times had he said that now? And so far he was completely wrong—Sonny was very successfully running away.

"Oh, yeah?" And he knew it. Sonny's tone was amused, challenging. "What do you call this?"

"They're not going to stop looking for you," Vinnie said quietly.

"'They'?" Sonny asked.

"We. Cut it out, just pull over and let me—"

"Shut up."

"Sonny—"

"Shut up!"

He'd slowed his speed some, anyway, was going about forty down the narrow roads, but it was still too risky to attack him. The early hour worked to Sonny's advantage; they'd yet to see another car.

"Could you at least tell me where we're going?"

"Told you, I don't remember the name of the town. It's been a few years, you know."

"No, I don't know. What town?"

"Some little nothing place, we used to drive up and smoke cigarettes, eat ice cream, get laid—it can't be too much farther...." Sonny's voice trailed off, though whether he was lost reminiscence or preoccupied with the road, Vinnie couldn't tell.

"Unless we're lost," Vinnie suggested, winning himself a nasty look.

"We're not lost."

"What happens if we run out of gas, out here in the middle of nowhere? Neither one of us is equipped for survival in the woods."

"No problem," Sonny replied carelessly. "Gas or no gas, the cigarette lighter would work. I'd just kill you, start a fire, and have you for dinner."

Vinnie turned away, trying to ignore Sonny's raucous laughter. "Yeah, yeah, very funny."

He turned back in time to catch Sonny giving him a long, considering look. "I could live off you for a month, spend my time chipping balls into the woods."

What? Vinnie stared at him in confusion, but Sonny just kept laughing.

"Keep your eyes open for a pay phone, I gotta make call."

"Fuck that, the only thing I'm doing's arresting you."

Sonny snorted back a laugh. "Helluva job you're doin', too."

"Pay phone," Vinnie muttered. "I haven't seen anything but this road to suggest human habitation. I don't work for you anymore," he added, feeling childish for saying it.

"Hey, you never did."

"Smoke cigarettes, eat ice cream and get laid?" Vinnie asked.

"Yeah, an' get drunk."

"What kind of paradise is this place?"

"Told you, just a little nothing town on the wrong side of the border. But the trainers couldn't see us there, so we'd sneak off to break training, do all the stuff we weren't allowed to. First girl I ever did was from there—"

Vinnie'd hoped Sonny's recollections would distract him; he went for the keys and got an elbow in the throat; for a moment he saw stars. He slumped back in the seat in temporary defeat. "So what're you, going to give her a call?" he asked, his voice coming harsh from his sore throat.

"All depends how things work out."

Give her a call. Vinnie had put the pieces together, but he'd come up with the wrong picture; Sonny was looking for a pay phone to call the woman in his present, not one from his past. He needed to talk to Theresa while he still could, before the fucking cops got a tap on her phone. And more urgently, he needed to put gas in the car, and he needed a plan before they got to a gas station.

If he stopped the car, Vinnie was going to beat the hell out of him, unless Sonny gave him a good reason not to. Sonny was working on a reason.

Vinnie was squirming around in his seat like he had ants in his pants. "What the hell are you doing?" Sonny asked. 

"Trying to get my cigarettes outta my pants pocket."

"Jerk, keep 'em in your jacket pocket, you won't have thar problem."

"Gee, thanks," Vinnie shot back sarcastically. "How do I ever manage to get dressed without your help?"

"Doesn't look like you do," Sonny muttered. Vinnie had got to the cigarettes and was going after the lighter. When he'd got it successfully lit, Sonny watched him put the cigarettes and lighter into his left-hand jacket pocket.

"Vinnie. How sure are you could take me?" The question came out of a dead silence with no preamble.

"In a fair fight, you mean?" Vinnie asked, and realized what a stupid question it was when Sonny started laughing.

"Yeah, sure," Sonny agreed. "In a fair fight where I'm trying to kill you."

Vinnie looked over at Sonny. He wasn't sure how sure he was he could take him in a fight where Sonny would do anything he could to beat him, but he wasn't going to tell him that. "I'm a hundred percent sure I could take you. Right now the only thing I'm not sure of is that if we started fighting, I wouldn't kill you."

"Good." Sonny sounded strangely satisfied with this response. "You can tell yourself that later, when your conscience is bothering you."

"What are you talking about?"

"The gas station we stop at isn't going to be deserted, you know. There's at least gonna be an attendant there, and maybe some other customers. How many deaths you want on your conscience?"

"Sonny—" Vinnie was baffled. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"The way I see it, you're after my life—at least trying to make sure I spend the better part of it locked up. So I'm going to do whatever it takes to keep you from winning. When the car stops, I'm going to get out, and if the guy working there's the only one around, I'm going to take the wire out of my pocket and wrap it around the guy's neck and kill him. If there's somebody else there getting gas, I'm going to get in their car and make them drive me away and when we've lost you, I'm going to kill them and keep the car. So you better be right about being able to take me, and you better be pretty damn fast, because if you're wrong, you're going to have some innocent person's life on your conscience."

"My conscience?" Vinnie yelled, anger and helplessness getting the better of him. "You're the one talking about killing some stranger but it's gonna end up on my conscience? That's a good one!"

"You could stop it," Sonny said in a low voice. "You don't cause problems, nothing bad happens to anybody, we get our gas and we keep driving. You do cause problems and you don't kill me, there's only going to be two of us breathing when it's all over. Something like that, innocent people dying, it ought'a be on somebody's conscience, right? And since I haven't got one, that leaves yours." More than anything, it was the self-satisfaction in Sonny's voice that pissed Vinnie off.

"You wouldn't do that," he said, but his voice screamed his uncertainty.

"My life or theirs?" Sonny asked. "You want to bet on that?"

Vinnie wasn't quite hyperventilating, but Sonny could hear him breathing hard.

"So," he continued casually, "are you going to stay in the car and behave yourself?" Maybe he had him, maybe he didn't.

"I give you my word," Vinnie said, his voice tight.

Sonny almost felt sorry for him but he couldn't help himself. "What the fuck do I want with your word?"

It was another half-hour before Sonny spotted a gas station, a self-serve-only place. There were two gas pump islands and a free-standing concrete building with restrooms at the back end and a small office in front with a disinterested guy sitting barricaded behind a bulletproof window, waiting to take the money and turn on the pumps. There were no other cars around, and for a moment Vinnie felt a surge of relief. The one person on the premises was safe; all he had to do was get him to call the police! Even if Sonny took off, with the car so low on gas, he couldn't get far.

He was out of the car before it had come to a complete stop, moving toward the tiny building, shouting for the attendant to call the cops. The guy took no notice of him.

Vinnie heard a car door slam, turned and saw a young dark-haired woman getting out of a gray LTD. She'd pulled up next to one of the pumps, and Sonny was maneuvering around to park on the other side. Vinnie had a split-second thought of trying to get over to the woman, but he was afraid if he tried, Sonny would hit him with the car. Instead Vinnie kept going toward the office, hollering at the man inside. At least now he'd looked up.

Vinnie heard another car door close, glanced around. It was Sonny getting out of the LeBaron. Sonny flashed him a grin, walking towards him, staying between Vinnie and the young woman. "Jesus Christ," he said loudly, and with some heat. "Bobby, I thought that pot of coffee I poured into you sobered you up."

For a second Vinnie just stared at Sonny. What the fuck—? The guy in the office was yelling through the amplifier "What's the matter? Did you say something about cops?" Apparently he hadn't understood Vinnie's words, only his agitation.

"I'm a federal agent," Vinnie said firmly. Sonny was shaking his head in a "humor the crazy guy" way.

"Yeah, he's with the FBI," he agreed to the young woman who had come up next to him. "That's what he told the stripper I found him with, only he told her it stood for Female Body Inspector." And now Sonny was staring him right in the eye. "Give the guy some money for the gas, then get back in the car, Bobby," he said, putting his hand into his pocket.

"You're under arrest," Vinnie said. And Sonny laughed.

"Bobby, will you cut it out? It's not funny. You can't just run out on my sister, leave her at the altar, then make jokes about it." Sonny looked at the young woman whose expression was that of studied detachment. The situation interested her, but she was too polite to let it show. "Do you believe this? He leaves my sister standing at the altar, I track him down—he's too drunk to walk to the car—I'm bringing him back, and now he pulls this shit."

"This man is a wanted fugitive," Vinnie asserted, trying to sound morally upright, trying to sound like a duly sworn officer of the law. Sonny laughing at him wasn't helping.

"That's right," Sonny agreed, running a hand down the front of his shirt. "I'm the infamous Tuxedo Bandit. I get up early every Sunday morning, put on my tux, and go off to rob a bank. If the banks were open Sunday mornings, I'd be a rich man now."

The young woman giggled.

"Lady, please get back in your car," Vinnie said to her. If he could just get her out of there, he could go for Sonny, and it wouldn't matter if the guy in the office believed him or not—two guys fighting ought to be enough to get him to call the police.

"He's harmless," Sonny assured her, "unless you're engaged to him. C'm'on, Bobby" Sonny moved over to him, taking his arm. "Quit causing problems." He gave Vinnie a little push toward the car.

"My name isn't Bobby!"

Sonny sighed in exasperation. "OK, why don't you show her your badge?" he asked Vinnie. "Is it because they don't give badges to five-dollar-an-hour waiters?"

Vinnie started for him, but Sonny stopped him easily by moving closer to his potential hostage. "C'm'on, man, do you really want to see a nice girl get hurt?" and Vinnie knew he wasn't talking about his imaginary sister. "Pay for the gas," Sonny said, and there was no patience in his voice, no humor in his expression. "Just pay for the gas and go fill the tank, Bobby."

Vinnie fished out his wallet and took out a couple of twenties, stuck them in the little drawer to send them to the guy in the office. "Keep the change." Then he went back to the car. For a minute he stood watching Sonny, who was talking to the woman, though Vinnie couldn't hear what he was saying. "Probably talking about his imaginary pal Bobby and what a creep he is." He unscrewed the gas cap and grabbed up the nozzle.

Sonny was feeling pretty good. He had Vinnie in line, the attendant had told him there was a pay phone on the other side of the building, and now he knew how to get a few minutes alone to use it. He chatted with the young woman as he watched Vinnie gas up the car, walked over to her car with her, offered to pump her gas for her. It was easy enough to pretend to be fascinated with her, to "accidentally" spill gasoline all over the pavement. "Shit!" he shouted, stepping back from the spreading puddle. He'd splashed Vinnie's shoes a little; that was good. That was good. Vinnie was glaring at him. "Sorry," Sonny said, smiling at him. "Haven't done this in a while."

"No, you had somebody to do it for you," Vinnie muttered under his breath, but Sonny heard him and laughed.

Sonny finished filling the tank, keeping an eye on Vinnie. Odds were, when the LeBaron's tank was full, he'd decide to have a cigarette. The LTD was just driving away when Vinnie began patting his pockets, looking for his lighter. Sonny watched him, until at last Vinnie looked at him. Sonny took out the lighter he'd swiped and tossed it high into the air, watched the glittering arc it made before falling back into his outstretched hand. "Looking for this?" When he saw Vinnie's eyes widen, Sonny walked over to him, tossing the lighter from one hand to the other.

"This's a nice one, not one of those crappy child-safety ones where you gotta hold the thing down to keep it lit. This one—" Sonny shrugged. "Lotta gasoline spilled around here, kid. It's not a smart place to go lighting cigarettes. You might do something clumsy, set yourself on fire. Why don't you wait here while I make a phone call?" Sonny headed toward the pay phone. 

He wouldn't really do it, Vinnie told himself, but how sure was he? He wouldn't really do it—

Tell yourself that when your shoes are on fire.

Yeah. He leaned against the car, wishing he could have a cigarette. Who the hell is he calling? When he gets back, why don't you ask him? Yeah, yeah, shut up. He could go over and try to talk the guy in the office, but his credibility was nil, and Sonny was on the other side of the building, with his cigarette lighter in his hand. "Fuck."

Sonny was coming towards him, motioning. "C'm'on, I gotta use the can."

Vinnie didn't move. "So what do you need with me?"

"I don't trust you where I can't see you." Sonny got to him, pulled his shirt sleeve. "C'm'on. I don't want you complaining a mile down the road you gotta pee."

"Fuck," Vinnie muttered under his breath, but he went with Sonny to the restroom.

Freshened up, they went back out to the car, Sonny climbing back in behind the steering wheel.

When they were on their way, Vinnie asked, very softly, "Would you have done it?"

"Set your shoes on fire?" Sonny asked, not answering Vinnie's question. Vinnie didn't ask it again.

"That picture was a fake, wasn't it?" Sonny threw the question at Vinnie out of the blue.

"What?"

"That picture. Of Paul with McPike. It was you with McPike, wasn't it? That's why when that cop, Phillips, was trying to shake me down, he wouldn't give you the picture." That was one thing that made sense now, anyway.

"Yeah," Vinnie agreed, "it was me. Sonny, you've got to go back. Look, I'll do everything I can to help you—"

"Oh, yeah?" Sonny asked, feigning interest. "Do I have you word on that? Huh? Or maybe we should shake on it. I know I can trust you—"

"Shut up," Vinnie repeated.

"Anyhow, it's not your guys I'm worried about. All they got is you, and all you got is your reputation as a liar. What jury's gonna listen to that, huh?"

Vinnie didn't say anything, but Sonny got the feeling he wanted to. "What? You got something to say? Go ahead and say it."

"They've got more than my word," Vinnie said quietly. Sonny waited, and eventually Vinnie added, "They've got a videotape."

"Of what?" Sonny demanded, perplexed.

"You. Killing Patrice."

Sonny slammed his foot down on the brake, nearly sending them both through the windshield.

Vinnie started in again. "Sonny, listen to me. You know the kind of picture a good lawyer could paint of Patrice, and I'll testify in your defense—"

"Do I have your word on that?" Sonny repeated. He hit the accelerator again.

"Yes! You have my word on it!"

"And we know what good that is. Why don't you just sit back and enjoy the ride?"

Vinnie didn't say anything and Sonny kept driving, thinking things over. Vinnie's silence told him everything—that he hadn't realized what he was doing, that he didn't know what he was doing now. OK, so I was stupid for trusting him. So what? But everything else is gone, everything but the money I got hidden away, so why shouldn't I keep him? So what if I can't trust him, I'll just have to keep an eye on him. And once he figures things out, he'll be glad we're together. Sonny sighed. I knew you were too good to be true.

"You wanna come with me?" Sonny's voice was a sweet seduction. Vinnie ignored him. "We could have a great time."

"You're under arrest," Vinnie answered tiredly. He pulled down the sun visor and looked at himself in the mirror, at his bruised throat.

"Yeah, yeah, and you will be too, if you go back."

"What?"

"Think about it. You ran off with me—"

"I was in pursuit!"

"You didn't call for reinforcements when you had a chance—how you gonna explain that, huh? The only difference between your position and mine is, your people aren't gonna kill you when they get their hands on you." Sonny sounded downright cheerful, which annoyed Vinnie to no end.

"What are you talking about?"

"Cut the innocent routine. You know as well as I do what happens to guys who do what I did, bring a rat into the organization. I don't need you or a good lawyer, what I need's a way out. Fortunately, I got one. And I got you."

"You do not have me." Until that moment it hadn't occurred to Vinnie what being Sonny's hand-picked protégée would mean.

Maybe not yet, but I will. "Turn on the radio," Sonny suggested, and Vinnie did, looking for a station that wasn't all static.

"—taken hostage in Steelgrave's escape attempt—" Vinnie had turned right past it, and by the time he got back, they were doing the weather.

"Told you I had you. You're my hostage." Sonny laughed, knowing his amusement was annoying the hell out of Vinnie. That alone was reason enough to accentuate the positive, to avoid dwelling on all he'd lost. Not just the casino, but Theresa—God, she was stand-up on the phone! ...and my name.

"You're hilarious, you know that? And what does that do to your theory that my guys think I've thrown in with you?"

"Nothin'. You know how they hate bad publicity; publicly they're gonna say you were forced but privately they're never gonna trust you again. The minute you disappeared with me, you lost your virtue."

The sidelong glance Sonny gave him told Vinnie exactly what he was thinking. They'd never talked about it, and Vinnie didn't want to now, but it didn't look like he had any choice.

"And there's something your guys an' mine would agree on," Sonny continued. "If they found out. You gonna tell 'em, Vinnie? Huh? You gonna tell 'em what we did together? 'Cause you know if you do, they'd never believe you—"

"Why don't you just shut up?"

"Or I could tell 'em. Why not, I got nothin' to lose?"

"Shut up!" Frank'll believe me. Won't he? What're the odds? My own mother didn't believe in me, 'til I showed her my badge. Why didn't I call? When could I have, even if I'd thought of it? If I'd let Sonny take off without me— Why'd you buy his gas? What, would it be better to be stranded in the middle of nowhere with him? I could take him in a fair fight, but who says he'd fight fair? I haven't heard a siren since we left the country club, who knows if anybody'd ever find us out here. My only hope is to get us to civilization. I haven't done anything wrong! You haven't done anything smart, either. He looked over at Sonny's smiling face. Look at that, he's not even worried. Hey, it's not my job to worry him, it's my job to arrest him. "Helluva job you're doin', too." "Shut up."

Sonny glanced over at Vinnie's anxious face and laughed. "Don't worry, you can come with me."

"I don't want to come with you!" He made another grab for the keys and this time got Sonny's elbow in his diaphragm.

"Got any better offers?" Vinnie didn't answer, so he amended his question. "You got any other offers?" No answer. "That's what I thought. Puts us in the same boat—you're all I got and I'm all you got." And I'm keeping you. You've taken everything else, but you, I'm keeping. And why not? You're the best prize I could have—the OCB's finest, and now you're mine.

Vinnie went back to fiddling with the radio. All the newscasts said the same thing: Steelgrave was on the lam, with Terranova, an OCB undercover agent, believed to be a hostage.

"Told you you were screwed. They've blown your cover, which means you're no good to them anymore. And you're only believed to be a hostage. By the time it gets dark, you'll be an accomplice, a fed gone bad, and then there's no turning back."

"Sonny, don't do this."

"Do what? You mean, take your whole life away from you?"

"It was my job!"

"Was your job?"

"Pull over. Let me take you back—"

"So Mahoney can have me killed? Why don't I just pull over, you can beat me to death with one'a the golf clubs in the trunk; that way you can prove yourself a fucking hero, just like you wanted—”

"This is not what I wanted!"

"No, I bet it's not. Look, I'm not going back to put my head on the chopping block so you can further your career. And that's the only thing that'll get you off the hook now. This whole hostage thing's nothing but bullshit, but even if it's not, it doesn't do you any good."

"What are you talking about?"

Sonny tapped the side of Vinnie's head. "Get your brain in gear and think! You didn't in call when you could have, you stayed when you could have gotten away—"

"I wasn't supposed to be getting away! I'm arresting you!"

"Have you forgotten what they did to Patty Hearst because she couldn't fucking pick the lock of a car trunk? And their standards are gonna be a lot higher for you, I'd bet. I'm doing you a favor here, taking you with me, because even if they didn't lock you up, nobody would ever believe you! You'd be a big joke."

Vinnie shifted away, leaning against the side of car. "Why're you doing this?" he asked, trying to keep his voice level. He felt like a kid, abandoned and alone.

"Doing what?" Sonny asked, annoyed. "Trying to save my own life?"

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"I'm not doing anything to you," Sonny snapped at him. "You got your job an' I got mine."

"And just what is your job?"

"Taking care of myself." He reached over and stroked Vinnie's hair. "So, now I'll take care of you, too."

"I don't want you taking care of me!"

"Yeah, but I'm all you got. Just like you're all I got." He eased the car onto the gravel shoulder and stopped. "Guess it's a good thing I didn't let Aldo pop you, huh?" he asked, then leaned over and kissed Vinnie's lips.

Six times they'd fooled around in the dark together, forbidden play, but never once had they kissed. And the look on Sonny's face....

"Start thinking what you want your new name to be," Sonny said, shifting back to his own side of the car and starting the engine.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the 3d incarnation of this story. The first one had a really lame middle; the second one had a slightly better middle, & because I'm an egotist, I believe this one has a great middle. Some of that middle—Sonny threatening to set Vinnie on fire—exists because of Krissy, who took the time to read the unfinished product & think about it. And I owe a lot to Theresa Kyle, who took the time to listen to me read it aloud to comb for errors. 
> 
> Yeah, it's another Sonny-is-alive story. They're my favorite thing to write. This is my own personal Butterfly Effect story, with the "change one thing, you change everything" premise, an idea I find fascinating me.


End file.
